The Darkest Nights Make the Brightest Stars
by blackhorse darkrider
Summary: As the world becomes increasingly unstable, top auror Hermione is reassigned to teach at Hogwarts and work with Snape to figure out Voldemort's endgame before the clock runs out. HG/SS.
1. In Which Our Story Begins

This is my first shot at writing a story - I'd appreciate any reviews and feedback!

The story is set a few years after Harry, Ron, and Hermione graduate, but in the Harry Potter universe it pretends the last two books didn't happen, picking up after The Order of the Phoenix, to ensure that certain characters are still alive.

Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter related belongs to JK Rowling.

**Chapter 1: In Which Our Story Begins**

"The darker the night, the brighter the stars" ~ Dostoevsky

Hermione Granger stood at one end of Red Square in Moscow, watching the military parade, and scowled. The Russians had been holding parades more frequently, flaunting their military strength and ratcheting up tensions with the West. Hermione shook her head as she scanned the stands set up across the square for the Russian president and political elite. She searched the faces, looking for familiar figures. Sure enough, on the president's right, sat the unmistakable figure of Lucius Malfoy. His hair would have been recognizable anywhere, and gleamed in the August sunlight.

His presence at the parade, and in such a seat of honor no less, gave further credence to Dumbledore's theory that there was a darker force at work behind the recent spattering of international incidents that had marred headlines across the globe that summer. It was Dumbledore's belief, a belief shared by the Order of the Phoenix, that Voldemort's Death Eaters had orders to infiltrate muggle and wizarding governments around the world, but to what end, other than the sowing of disorder and general weakening of the international system, remained unclear. Although, Hermione supposed, it was probable that Dumbledore had a hunch what his nemesis's endgame was, even if he chose not to share. Voldemort's followers certainly had done a good job of generally creating chaos, from influencing governments and creating international incidents to causing what the muggle press called disease outbreaks and natural disasters. The Ministry aurors and Order of the Pheonix members had had their hands full trying to contain the ensuing bedlam, but that summer had seen a noticeable increase.

The idea that there was a point to the overall disorder instigated by the Death Eaters was a theory kept to Order of the Phoenix meetings. While the Ministry of Magic had accepted Voldemort's return, they had been less than enthusiastic about taking Dumbledore's advice, and a rift had grown between the Ministry and Hogwarts' Headmaster. Many members of the Order of the Phoenix continued to work as aurors for the Ministry, but at the end of the day they looked to Dumbledore. Such was the case of Hermione, Harry, and Ron. Upon graduating from Hogwarts they had passed the auror tests with flying colors (although nothing less could have been expected, with all that they had faced during their years at school) and joined the Ministry's battle, at least in paper, but they also joined the Order of the Phoenix, and the final word would always come from Dumbledore.

After Hermione had noted Malfoy and the several other prominent Death Eaters interspersed amongst the Russian political elite, she let her mind wander. She had watched enough similar parades over the past year in Russia that she was no longer impressed by the muggle military's tanks and rocket-launchers and smartly-dressed, high stepping soldiers and catchy martial music. Officially, according to the Ministry of Magic, she was helping her Russian auror counterparts contain the vampire and werewolf populations in the wide swaths of forest in Siberia and the Far East. Unofficially, on Dumbledore's orders, she was to familiarize herself with Russian politics and monitor faces so that she could report back to the Order whether or not the erratic decisions made by Moscow were due to Death Eater influence or were simply Russian politics as usual.

Initially, after Hogwarts, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had become the most successful auror team in history, putting away a record number of Death Eaters, but the Ministry had grown to view the three of them and their loyalty to Dumbledore as a threat. The past year it decided to send her to Russia and the boys to the U.S., on paper to help capture coral wild hippogriffs and dragons, but Hermione supposed it was likely that they had a similar assignment from Dumbledore, and were really there to monitor Washington politics. Initially they had refused to be split up, and only after a great deal of heated arguing and yelling – the refrain "Politics are going to loose this bloody war!" was thrown around a great deal – was Dumbledore able to convince them that they could serve the cause of the Light just as well on the intelligence side of things as on the front lines.

Over the past year Hermione had grown to like Russia and developed a taste for vodka and salted fish, an appreciation for the incredible art and architecture, and an admiration for the Russian people. Despite the many problems that plagued Russian politics and society and the heavy weight of history, the Russian people stood tall and proud.

The end of the parade brought an end to Hermione's musings and brought her back to the present. After the crowd dispersed, she would head back to her apartment and write up a report to send back to Dumbledore. As she waited, a shout caught her attention.

"Hermione!"

She turned and saw Alex Stebbins, her Ministry-assigned colleague, running towards her through the crowd. He skidded to a stop next to her.

"I think something's up… I got an owl… from Harry Potter, I think-" he handed her a piece of parchment.

She snatched the parchment from him. Unfolding it, the only words she saw were _HG, Wanna relive the old times? HP_.

"I don't know if it's really from him-" Stebbins began.

"I can check." Hermione pulled out her wand and waved it over the parchment to undo the coding charm. The coding charm was a complex bit of magic she herself had developed for the Order to use after too many owls were intercepted. In theory only other Order members knew how to decode the letters to find the real message underneath. Sure enough, a new message formed:

_'Mione,_

_Ron and I are in your part of the world on a mission from Dumbledore. We have reason to believe that there's something going on nearby, and we thought we could meet you by the abandoned monastery outside of Smolensk. Want to join us? We could use the backup and it'll be just like old times, the trio reunited to save the world, because, let's face it, who else is up for the task?_

_Your comrade in arms, HP_

Hermoine read the note and suppressed a smile. Taking down some Death Eaters with the boys sounded as good a way as any to spend the evening.

"Everything's fine Alex, no worries," she said, turning to Stebbins. "But do tell Deputy Foreign Minister Ivanov that I will be unable to make it to his dinner party tonight. Indigestion, perhaps?"

"I'll pass along the note. But I'll need a more convincing reason than that – everyone knows that you love the food here." Stebbins grinned and together they headed back to the British Embassy.

As evening approached, Hermione prepared to head out, making sure to slip her pouch of healing potions and ointments into one of her robe pockets. She was excited to reunite with Harry and Ron. They had made an excellent team. She apparated to the clearing in front of the abandoned monastery and pulled out her wand, just to be on guard. Dusk had fallen, and the shadows were beginning to lengthen. She looked up at the crumbling monastery, which had once been a beautiful example of Russian architecture and whose walls had stood strong against the harsh weather for many centuries but were finally beginning to succumb. The surrounding forest had begun to encroach upon the cleared land and vines wound their way up the walls.

She heard footsteps and two figures emerged from around one of the walls.

"Harry? Ron?"

"Nope. Guess again, Granger."

_Oh shit._

The forms of Avery and Goyle emerged from the shadows, their wands out and pointed at her.


	2. If This Is It, Let's Go Down Fighting

_Pop._

Someone apparated behind her. Keeping an eye on the Death Eaters, she turned to see Stebbins appear at the other side of the clearing. He had his wand out and was looking at her oddly.

"What are you doing here? How did you know-" she began.

"We broke your coding charm Granger," he sneered. "You thought you were so clever, didn't you? And all the time you were in Russia, you never suspected me. Ha! It's all a ruse. There was no note from Potter. No one knows you're here. It's just a pity we can't kill you. His Lordship wants you as bait. Just as you ran into this trap tonight, what do you think Potter and Weasley will do when they hear you're captured? Wait for reinforcements? No. They'll be typical Gryffindors, and run to save their friend. No, we can't kill you, but we can have some fun with you."

"Drop your wand," Avery called. "Drop your wand and come quietly, and maybe we won't hurt you too much."

"Ha. Fat chance. If you want me, come and get me," Hermione called tauntingly back. She pushed away the other thoughts clouding her head – anger at Stebbins' betrayal, fear for Harry and Ron, concern that they had broken the coding charm - to a single one: If this was it, she was going to go down fighting.

The clearing lit up with different flashes of light as the Death Eaters sent curses at Hermione and she deflected them and sent her own back. In the melee Avery went down after a well-aimed _Stupefy_. But Hermione watched him fall a second too long, long enough for Goyle and Stebbins to both send curses her way.

She managed to cast the shield charm in time to absorb the black and blue bolts of light, but the force of absorbing the curses forced her back. Her foot caught in a hole and she went down hard. Before she could recover and bring her wand up, Goyle and Stebbins trained their wands on her.

"That's quite enough of that, Granger," said Stebbins, panting and wiping at his bloody nose. "This would have been so much easier if you hadn't insisted on being so bloody heroic."

"Go to hell, you treacherous son of a bitch," spat Hermoine, tensing to raise her wand. Even if she didn't get a spell out before they did, at least it she wouldn't be delivered to Voldemort in one piece.

A growl echoed across from the forest, and they all turned. A huge black wolf materialized from the shadows and, in the time provided by surprise, bounded across the clearing and leaped at Stebbins, jaws closing around his wand arm. Cursing, Stebbins dropped the wand and the two figures toppled over in a flurry of fur and thrashing limbs. Snarls and swears filled the air until the wolf's teeth found Stebbins throat, and then in a spray of blood it was over.

Hermione and Goyle had remained motionless, watching the struggle, and in the ensuing silence, before he could turn their attention back on her, Hermione grabbed her wand and quickly stupefied him. She then turned to look at the wolf, keeping her wand up. The wolf was backing away from Stebbins, shaking its head. It paused, looking at her, and then – in a blink – disappeared.

In its place sat Severus Snape, looking rather the worse for wear.


	3. A Moment of Closeness That Will Not Last

"What… How… you?" Hermione found she couldn't quite put together a sentence; she was still trying to process the recent events.

"I don't believe there was a proper question in that muddle of words. Tut, tut, Ms. Granger, not up to your normal standard. As for what happened, I believe it was a situation typical of you and your friends - rushing into danger headlong and then needing to be rescued … how very Gryffindor of you," Snape attempted a classical Snapean sneer, but his voice lacked the usual venom.

"Well… last time I checked rushing to the rescue wasn't very Slytherin," retorted Hermione, before she had complete control of her mouth. "Sorry Professor, I didn't mean anything by that, it just… Thank you for saving my life…" she trailed off as he raised an eyebrow at her.

"I suggest we return to Hogwarts, and I will leave the explaining to Dumbledore." Snape tried to stand, but barely made it before sinking to his knees with a groan.

"Are you hurt?" Hermione quickly crossed the clearing. The words caught in her throat as she knelt by him. _He looks awful_, she thought, _worse than normal_, a snide voice in her head added before she pushed it away. His robes were torn and dirty and bloody. He was bruised and bleeding and covered in what looked like deep bite-marks and scratches. As she knelt next to him and took stock of his injuries, he flinched away and tried to stand again.

The rational, healer part of her brain took over, and despite the fact that she was addressing Snape, she said firmly:

"Professor, stop. If you can't even stand, you're not going to be able to apparate. Normally I could apparate for both of us, but the way Russian visas work is that if you're here to work for the government, you have to register and then you can only apparate in and out of the country at specific points, and I'm guessing this forest is not one of them. But I can heal you enough so that you can get us out of here, if you'll trust me and stay still. Now tell me what happened."

"Several bouts of _Crucio_ at a Dark Revel for the Dark Lord's amusement. That's where I was before you needed rescuing and how I found out of their plan. Then I ran into a werewolf trying to slip into the forest to get away without being noticed. And no, the werewolf bites don't have the same affect on the wolf form." His voice was ragged and barely above a whisper and he avoided looking at her while he spoke.

Unable to come up with a sufficient response, she just pulled out her pouch of healing potions and said, "Well, I'll start the healing then, I guess. Here, drink this. This is a strengthening potion, and this one should help with the pain.

Hermione tentatively reached out to push back his hair so she could start with the gash over his eye. He suppressed a shudder as her hand brushed his face, though from her touch or pain she did not know. Snape remained silent, and the only sounds in the clearing were Hermione's muttered healing spells as she moved from wound to wound. Her brain switched to healer mode as she took stock of his injuries and how best to approach them so that the worst would be taken care of. The wounds were bad enough that it would take several days and repeated healing spells for him to fully recover. The rational part of her brain that was assessing him for the best course of dealing with his injuries noted that he was very thin – too thin – but in surprisingly good shape, as her hand moved from his bicep to his chest to close the gashes. It noted that he was very pale, most likely from loss of blood and lack of sleep. It noted that the extent of his wounds were such that it was incredible he had come out on top in the struggle with Stebbins. She had read that it was possible for a powerful enough witch or wizard to draw energy from their animal form, but such actions took a toll.

As Hermione's fingers fluttered over him, wound by wound, Snape looked decidedly away from her. He definitely did not take note of the fact that she had grown into quite the young woman since her graduation from Hogwarts or that the healing spells she was casting were powerful spells that were beyond the abilities of most of the wizarding world or that she smelled of something nice, maybe lavender. Or if he did, he would never admit it to anyone. Just like he would never admit that the healing potions she had given him, which he supposed she had brewed herself, were very impressive.

At least Hermione rocked back on her heels and looked at Snape. "That should do for the worst of it… how do you feel?"

He slowly pushed himself to his feet, but found he could stand. He nodded at her. As she made to stand, she was hit with a wave of exhaustion from casting the healing spells and staggered, but Snape caught her arm and helped her up.

They found themselves standing very close to one another. Hermione was very conscious of his hand still on her arm as she looked up into his face, his dark eyes unreadable as he looked down at her. He abruptly looked away and let go of her. She motioned to the prone Death Eaters lying in the clearing.

"Er… should we do something about them?"

"I think we can just leave them explain to the Dark Lord why they aren't presenting you to him," he said with a ghost of a smile. "Back to Hogwarts, then?" She nodded and he held out his hand. In a flurry of robes they were back in England, at the edge of the anti-apparition wards that surrounded Hogwarts.

Snape dropped her hand and started walking purposefully, or as purposefully as he could with his wounds, back to the castle without looking back. Hermione followed, staying behind him, as she sensed he had no desire to walk side-by-side. As they approached Hogwarts, one of the front doors creaked open and the familiar form of Albus Dumbledore appeared.

"Severus, Hermnione! I'm so glad to see you made it safely back."

They followed Dumbledore into the Entrance Hall. Snape turned to Dumbledore and said, "Headmaster, I will see you in your office tomorrow morning to make my report," and stalked stiffly off toward the dungeon.

Dumbledore sighed softly and shook his head. "Some people never seem to change. Well, Hermione, my dear, I have taken the liberty of having your things in Moscow transferred to Hogwarts and the guest suite made up for you. I will explain everything further tomorrow, but I think you are in need of a good nights sleep first."

Hermione nodded gratefully and yawned and followed the older wizard to the guest-rooms and then bade him goodnight. The suite was cozy – a common room and a bedroom and a bathroom. Hermione barely noticed the comfortable looking leather furniture and extensive bookshelves as she stumbled to the bedroom, where there was a four-poster bed and her trunks from Moscow waiting for her. Letting her robe drop to the floor, she didn't bother with her other clothes as she fell on top of the bed and into a dreamless sleep.


	4. A Dark Prognosis

Snape paced in front of Dumbldore's desk, glaring at the Headmaster

"You cannot be serious about this. About any of this," Snape retorted.

"Now, now Severus. I think Ms. Granger has proved time and again. She is one of the brightest witches of our age. And she will be staying at Hogwarts, so it is as if fate has arranged that she will be here to work with you."

"Headmaster, I work alone. I always have. I will not tolerate this. I especially will not work with Ms. 'I know everything and I have to prove it' Granger. It would be insufferable. She's a Gryffindor, she's a know-it-all-"

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop his tirade. "Severus, I think if you give her a chance, she will prove to be invaluable. And you know better than anyone that time is running out."

"I see I have no choice in this matter," Snape bit off bitterly, and stormed out of the office.

XXXXXXXX

Hermione woke up disgustingly early the next day out of habit. She reluctantly got out of bed and showered, figuring she might as well head to Dumbledore's office as soon as possible to find out what was going on. Pulling on a sweater and jeans, she piled her hair on top of her head, deciding not to deal with it at the moment. It was still as bushy as ever, but she had gotten used to it.

It was strange to walk through Hogwarts when school wasn't in session. The corridors were so familiar, and yet not the same. As she approached the stone gargoyle, she realized she didn't know the password.

"Er… Pumpking pasty? Cockroach cluster? Chocolate frog?" The stone gargoyle sprang aside.

"Wait, reall-" she began as Snape stormed through the doorway, and they narrowly avoided colliding.

"Ms. Granger. Less than twenty-four hours back at Hogwarts and already underfoot," he snarled, with all of the venom she remembered from her school days.

"How are you, Professor?" Hermione asked, determined to try to move past their relationship past the animosity of past years to some semblance of professionalism. They were on the same side, after all, even if it was difficult to tell from his behavior.

"I assure you my well-being is no concern of yours," snapped Snape, and strode off, robes billowing.

Hermione stepped through the archway before the stone gargoyle could close, and then paused to analyze her feelings before she continued to Dumbledore's office. Was she feeling hurt at his tone? No, that would be silly. He was Severus Snape, after all, who, despite having saved her life many times over the past years, was still a sarcastic, irritable bastard who had made potions class miserable. Despite that, perhaps because her potions had always been above reproach, she had still learned a great deal in that class and had long held a grudging respect for the man and the work he did for the Order. Not that it was likely that he would ever know that. She shook her head; why would the other night have changed anything?

She continued to Dumbledore's knocking, and after a cheerful "Do come in," entered. He motioned for her to sit, and as she sat in a squashy armchair in front of his desk.

"Hermione, how are you, my dear?" The Headmaster asked, looking at her over his half-moon spectacles. His blue eyes twinkled with all the light and intelligence that she remembered, but he looked tired.

"I thought I was fine in Russia, until last night," she answered.

"Ah, yes. You were doing a lovely job, but it appears that Voldemort has grown inpatient and decided to unfurl his endgame, and to speed things along. As you may know, Severus was at the Dark Revel last night, and he has reported that the Dark Lord does indeed have a plan to return to power, mightier than ever before, and he has decided to take the necessary steps to begin to put said plan into action. Now, have you heard of the Stones of Power? They go by many names – every empire has had its own name for them."

"I have heard of them," said Hermione. "But they're not real, are they?"

Dumbledore smiled. "At one point they were the builder and destroyer of empires.

Their exact origin is unknown, but it is likely ancient kings had them created and imbued with the power of their empire to try to help them hold onto their thrones. But pure power knows no master or morality. Rather, it serves the one with the strongest will, whether that be a will for good or bad. The stones could help create a mighty and prosperous kingdom, but if the ruler was unable to harness their power, the stone could betray him and turn to another and the empire would burn as fast as it had grown. Over the centuries the stones have accumulated power, and are now much more powerful than when they were created.

How exactly the stones changed hands over the centuries is unknown, as the stones are shrouded in secrecy Only a small number of people knew of their definite existence, whether they were the rulers themselves or advisors. But it is not too hard to trace history's winners and losers and to postulate the path of the stones, and to imagine that behind the fall of some of the greatest empires the stones changed hands.

Originally there were three stones. While each on its own wields enormous power, together they would wield a truly awesome power. If the will and ambition of the person who attempted to wield them all was strong enough, that person would be undefeatable. would be undefeatable. Only once in history – in the case of Rome – were even two stones united.

Over the course of history, some rulers, realizing that man was susceptible to ambition and greed and desire, and realizing the human cost of uninhibited power, tried to destroy the stones, but largely without success. The stones are treacherous and will betray the one who seeks to undo them.

However, one stone was destroyed. In 1490, the Chinese wizards were able to find and destroy it. However, when they destroyed it, the stone released a huge amount of energy, killing all those involved in the destruction. Muggle history texts list the incident as an asteroid striking earth. Due the secrecy surrounding the stones, the knowledge of how to destroy them and how the wizards even found the stone has been lost."

Dumbledore regarded Hermione gravely over his glasses. "I know this seems rather unbelievable. But there is more. But some tea, perhaps? And maybe a sherbert lemon?"

Hermione nodded to the tea and refused the sherbert lemon. As she sipped her tea, Dumbledore continued.

"Luckily, we have the advantage over Voldemort, as some of us suspected the stones might be part of his plan. The Dark Lord mistakenly believes, as Severus has been hinting, that one stone is in the United States and one is in Russia. Of those who know of the stones existence, a number believe they have remained part of international politics up until today, but in actuality, they disappeared from the record several centuries ago. We believe that is why they targeted you last night, believing you knew what they were looking for. The chaos over the summer is no accident. The overall weakening of light and leadership around the world will make it easier for the Dark Lord, should he obtain the stones, to bind them and all of humanity, to his will.

In addition to Voldemort looking in the wrong places, the side of the Light has another advantage. We actually have possession of one of the stones. You, my dear, have actually had dealings with the stone before."

"Wait," said Hermione slowly. "Do you mean the Sorcerer's stone?"

"I do indeed. Think about it. Turning any material into gold, everlasting life. Some beneficial side effects for whomever was able to harness its power. Granted, the stones often betrayed their handler, revoking said gifts, and said ruler tended to die rather brutally. But, yes, it is one and the same as the one you and Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley heroically rescued your first year. A good deal of years before you came to Hogwarts the stone was entrusted to my keeping by a good friend, an American actually, who found the stone in Petra, in Jordan, and whisked it away before it could fall into Nazi hands."

"Ok. But wasn't the Sorcerer's stone destroyed?" asked Hermione.

A look of sadness passed over Dumbledore's face. "Alas, no. The spell to destroy the stones is unknown. And I, I was mistaken in this regard, did not want to. Perhaps it has gotten to me, but I wanted to continue to study it, to see if its powers could be used for good. But it knows no difference between good and evil."

"And no one has looked for these stones? I guess it sounds like the Nazis went looking, and the Chinese found one long ago, but why haven't there been more efforts and why aren't the stones more widely known?"

"Humans have short memories. Some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. Myths dissolve into the sands of time.

It is up to you and Severus to work together –" he held up a hand at the look on her face. "To work together to figure out where the two missing stones are, and how to destroy them."

"Work together… we can barely stand each-other. And how can we find them, if no one has yet? How can the two of us, when Voldemort has yet to, with all the resources at his disposal? And if the stones do not want to be destroyed…couldn't they resist being found?"

"I am afraid I cannot offer reassuring answers. The task lies with you. We do not even know for certain if the second stone is out there, but until we know where it is or if it was destroyed, we have to keep searching. I know you would prefer to work with Harry and Ron, but for several reasons I believe this is for the best. Together you and Severus wield a great deal of intellectual and magical strength, and you are most formidable. Because you and Severus would simply want to find the stone, rather than use it, you might have more luck than past searchers."Also, if you, Harry, and Ron were to start working on a secret project together, word would get out that something was afoot.

"Like how Harry was able to get the Sorceror's stone. But wouldn't it be safer to leave the second stone where it is? If it hasn't yet been found, after all this time… what if we do find it, and then Voldemort finds us?"

"You must not let that happen. That is why it is the two of you who are entrusted with the task. If anyone has the chance it is you. The second stone has been safe for hundreds of years…" Dumbledore's face grew as grave as Hermione had ever seen it." "But darkness is gathering and the light is flickering. The situation is worse than many know. Voldemort and his cause have not lacked for support. It is likely that in the near future his powers will be such that he can overcome the wards guarding the stone. And if that were to happen, I fear that finding a way to defeat him would become close to impossible."

Hermione looked into the fire for a long moment, and then back at Dumbledore. "All right then. But what excuse will I have to work with Professor Snape?"

"I was thinking that we are in need of a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. Professor Granger has a nice ring to it, don't you think, and you certainly have enough experience fighting the dark arts outside of the classroom."

Hermione tried not to let her face show what she thought of that idea. Teach? Her? Face students who, if they were anything like she, Harry, and Ron, would be incorrigible? But then she thought of what Dumbledore had told her, and how time was running out and her resolve hardened. Hermione Granger was not one to walk away when things got difficult. "If you do think that is best, Headmaster, I suppose I shall find a way."

"Excellent! But you must call me Albus, now that we are colleagues." Dumbledore's face broke into a smile.

Hermione returned the smile. "You'll have to give me some time with that one."

"As you probably know, term starts in a week, so you can settle in and look over the lesson plans."

"Great." Hermione tried to be enthusiastic.

XXXXXXXX

Snape paced in the common room that made up his suite of rooms, watching the sun set over the Hogwarts' grounds. Because of the slope of the land, even though his chambers were in the dungeons, that one room had windows all along the long side that afforded a nice view.

He was highly displeased about the turn of events. He shook his head – if he had to work with Hermione Granger, he would, as he had always followed Dumledore's orders, but the Headmaster couldn't make him like it or be pleasant to work with. Severus Snape was not a pleasant person. He was cold and calculating and didn't care for the idea of friends. Friends, like emotions, created vulnerabilities. He worked alone.

He thought of his brief interaction with Hermione earlier that day. It was for the best. She should have no illusions about him. He didn't believe in being friendly or even having working relations with anyone. Except maybe Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore, occasionally, as they could be tolerable to join for drinks every now and then.

Snape sank into one of the leather armchairs in front of the fireplace in his room. The school year was going to be more trying than normal.


	5. Here's to Me and Here's to You

Author's note: Kudos to those who recognized the LOTR reference in the previous chapter! LOTR and Harry Potter are both quite close to my heart. :)

_"Drink with me to days gone by_

_Can it be you fear to die? _

_Will the world remember you when you fall? _

_Could it be your death means nothing at all? _

_Is your life just one more life? _

_Drink with me to days gone by _

_To the life that used to be _

_At the shrine of friendship never say die _

_Let the wine of friendship never run dry _

_Here's to you _

_And here's to me…" _

"Drink With Me" from Le Mis

The morning after the meeting with Dumbledore, Hermione stood outside of the door to her rooms, trying to gather her resolve to find Snape and ask how he thought they best proceed on the seemingly impossible task. She had spent the past afternoon and evening in the library and had found nothing remotely useful.

Squaring her shoulders, she decided to head to his office first. Telling herself to stop being ridiculous – they were colleagues now – she walked down to the dungeons and, after only a moment of faltering, knocked on the door.

"Come in!" came the irritable reply.

Hermione pushed open the door. He was sitting at his desk, writing something.

"Professor, it appears we are to work together. I was wondering if you had any thoughts on how best to proceed," she said, with more confidence than she felt.

"As a matter of fact I do," Snape snapped at her. He glared at her as she walked in to stand in front of his desk. "But I am a busy man, and I have a great deal to do before the school tem begins." He motioned at the large pile of parchment scrolls on the desk. "I will contact you when I am ready to begin working on this project." His face made it clear the last words were difficult for him, and if he had his way, they would not be working together.

Determined not to be snarky and say if she had it her way the only way they would be working together was if there was no one else left and even then she might take her chances, Hermione only nodded and said, "Very well. I shall wait to hear from you. Good day, Professor Snape." With that she turned and left, resisting the urge to slam his office door behind her.

Snape watched her leave. He could have been a bit more obliging, he supposed, considering that it was unlikely she wanted this anymore than he, but if there was any word that described a Snape, "obliging" was not it. He supposed they would find a way to work together, out of a mutual respect for Dumbledore's wishes and the realization that the way of the Light was running out of other options. He snorted at that thought – things indeed had to be grim for hope to rest upon collaboration between a Slytherin spy and the Gryffindor golden girl. Shaking his head, he returned his attention to task he had been working on before her visit. There really was a great deal to do before the term began.

Hermione left the dungeons and restlessly wandered around the castle. The upcoming term was not going to be easy, between teaching (she still wasn't feeling too confident about that) and trying to work with Snape, who didn't seem very eager to have anything to do with her. She was cheered considerably when she ran into Professor McGonagall, who warmly welcomed her (at least someone was happy she was at Hogwarts) and the two ate lunch in McGonagall's rooms and spent a wonderful afternoon catching up.

As the shadows lengthened across the Hogwarts' grounds, Hermione headed back to her rooms, considerably more happy. As she crossed the Entrance Hall, a familiar voice called, "Oi! Hermione!" and she turned to see Harry and Ron walking down the marble staircase.

After running over to them and giving them both a big hug, she asked, "What on earth are you two doing here? Aren't you on assignment in the U.S.?"

"We are," said Harry, grinning broadly. "But we had a meeting with Dumbledore this afternoon. He brought us up to speed on, erm, recent events."

"Blimey, Hermione," said Ron. "The Death Eaters targeted you? And now you're tasked with working with Snape to save the world. You just can't seem to get a break, can you?"

Hermione smiled. "Well, I survived the Death Eater attack, I should be able to survive working with Snape. Hopefully. But I want to hear about your work in Washington." She looked more closely at them, and saw that Harry had what looked like a black eye and Ron had a healed-over split lip. "What happened to you two? Did you get in a fight? Are the Death Eaters giving you trouble-"

Harry and Ron laughed at her look of concern. "It's nothing, Hermione, but we'll tell you on the way to the Three Broomsticks. What about a butterbeer for old times' sake?" asked Ron.

"Sure, although I could use something stronger after the past few days," said Hermione.

"Shall we, Ms. Granger?" asked Harry with mock elegance, extending his arm to her. Laughing, she took his and Ron's arms, and the trio set off across the Great Lawn to Hogsmeade.

"So, what happened? Do tell," she prodded.

"Well, you know we're in Washington to monitor American politics," Harry began.

"The Americans are bloody crazy though," Ron interrupted. "It's bloody difficult to tell if the bad decisions and asinine rhetoric are normal or are products of Death Eater influence. It would be quite amusing to just sit in and be an observer on some of these Congressional hearings and high-level meetings, if the future of the world wasn't in balance."

"Right, but anyways," Harry continued. "You'll never guess who's also in D.C., firmly engrained in one of the most powerful lobbying firms. Draco Malfoy."

"Oh dear…" said Hermione. "I guess that makes sense though. Malfoy senior is in Moscow, stirring up trouble, and of course Malfoy junior is in America."

"Yeah. His money has bought him a ton of influence. It's a mess," said Harry.

"Anyways," Ron picked up the story. "We ran into him in front of the Capitol building – it's really a beautiful part of Washington, you'll have to come visit soon, Hermione – but we ran into him and Crabbe and Goyle, and let's just say… things got ugly."

Harry grinned. "It was like we were back at Hogwarts, but we couldn't use magic of course, because we were surrounded by muggles. So… some punches may have been thrown."

Ron started laughing then. "Yeah. If you think we look bad, you should have seen Malfoy."

The discussion turned into reminiscing over their school days and soon they were walking into the Three Broomsticks. Taking a table by the fire, their first round was butterbeer for old time's stake, but soon they were ordering rounds of fire whiskey.

As the evening passed, they laughed a great deal but there were also sobering moments as they caught each other up on their lives since they had been separated. Hermione had a number of amusing anecdotes from Russia, and Harry and Ron had their share of stories from Washington. They laughed particularly hard (their laughter likely aided by the fire whiskey) about the boys' assignment to keep an eye on the King Tut exhibit.

"So," Ron began, "There's this new exhibit at one of the Smithsonian museums on King Tut. It's a huge deal and it's getting a ton of visitors. You should come – in a few months there's this big gala and there'll be champagne and an evening viewing of the exhibit and famous visitors. But anyways, there's a legend that there's a curse on the tomb and the artifacts, a legend bolstered by the fact that everyone associated with finding the tomb died of an unknown illness."

"Right," continued Harry. "So, because there are whisperings about a curse, there are those low level Death Eaters who decided it would be amusing to try to convince the world that the curse does indeed exist, and have taken it upon themselves to move around artifacts and try to cause the curators to fall ill and maybe even have the "curse" spread around D.C."

"It would be humorous if it weren't so serious," said Ron, trying unsuccessfully not to laugh. "We pretty much spend time lurking around the exhibits, trying to cast counter-curses in time and catch those responsible."

"Good for you Ron, you're following in Charlie's footsteps…" Hermione broke off giggling.

The conversation moved on. Hermione watched her two closest friends across the table, as they talked and laughed and the firelight played across their faces, and she wished it could always be like this, or that there could at least be more moments. The three of them together, sharing a drink, momentarily forgetting that the weight of the free world depended on them. She sighed… that did not seem to be their lot in life though.

In the early hours of the morning they were finally kicked out of the Three Broomsticks and made their way, albeit a bit unsteadily, back up to the castle. They sat by the shore of the lake, and looked up at the stars, clearly visible on that clear August night.

Harry finally broke the silence. "I wish we could have more nights like this."

"Me too," said Hermione. "I guess our time after Hogwarts has always been marred by the shadow of knowing that Voldemort's out there, gathering strength."

"Yeah," said Ron. "But it sounds like you and Snape might be working on something to hasten the end of this."

"If we can work together," said Hermione. "I just don't know. He's the same insufferable bastard he was when we were at school."

"If anyone can figure out a way, it's our Hermione," said Harry.

Hermione smiled. "Thanks, Harry."

"Let's make a pact," said Harry. "When this is over, after the final battle, the three of us will spend another night like this, and look up at the stars by the lake, and raise a glass of champagne, of wine, whatever, to the fact that we did it, we defeated him. We'll raise a glass to the next chapter of our lives." Harry stuck out his hand, his face determined.

Hermione added her hand. "Yes. Come what may, we'll get through it together, just like we always have."

Ron added his hand. "Together for always. In victory or defeat. But fortune favors the brave!"

"And bravery is one thing we have on our side. We are Gryffindors, after all," said Hermione.

"And luck," allowed Ron. "But we've gotten through more than our fair share of scrapes…maybe, just maybe we'll make it through tis…"

They lapsed into silence, as each knew the probability of such a future was dim. But it wouldn't do to dwell on the improbabilities, as throughout their time at Hogwarts and beyond, they had managed to survive and beat the odds. If any group could make it through defeating Voldemort, it was their trio.

The talk moved on to happier subjects, joyful memories, and kept up until the sun began to peer over the horizon.

Regretfully they got to their feet and said farewells, the boys extracting from Hermione a promise she would do her best to attend the King Tut gala. Hermione headed back to the castle, and Harry and Ron back to apparate back to Washington.

As Hermione got into bed and pulled up the covers, she realized she felt a good deal more hopeful about the upcoming months.


	6. Breaking Through

From when it had become apparent that Voldemort might be interested in the stones, Dumbledore had sent out feelers to far corners of the world, to historians, treasure-hunters, archive keepers, to try to gather any type of documentation that might list the stones. As it had been a many year effort, the result was a wide range of ancient records – scrolls of parchment and bamboo and papyrus, tablets of stone, clay, and wood, pots, books of all variety, and other artifacts that someone had thought might be useful in some way. There were records kept by the highest echelons of the ancient governments, by the king's advisor, or the vizier, or the head of the king's innermost council, or by the ruler himself, or by the head of intelligence. There were Nazi notebooks and explorers' diaries and even artifacts from the pyramids, both those in Egypt and Latin America. The documents were in over one hundred languages, most of which were no longer spoken, and most were spelled to hide their contents, as the contents dealt with highest matters of state security. Some bore nasty curses to try to deter anyone finding out their secrets. Others were charmed to only reveal their contents to those of a certain bloodline, which had the potential to be complicate deciphering efforts.

Because of the languages and curses and the matter of convincing the documents to reveal their original message, Dumbledore had decided the matter of actually trying to make head or tail of it all was best left until it was clear that the stones were Voldemort's objective. Better to spend the human capital elsewhere, for it would take bright minds with a great deal of time to sift through the ancient records, and the side of the Light had never been flush with resources.

But time was drawing to a close. Once Dumbldore had tasked Snape with working with Hermione to figure out the mystery of the stones, Snape's week before the start of term had been full of locating and moving Dumbledore's vast store of artifacts to an area where he and Hermione could work on making something out of them. He had chosen an unused classroom in the dungeons, warded it ten times over to discourage any unwanted attention, and had set to work furnishing it with bookshelves and tables and chairs. Transporting all the documents had not been simple, as more than several had been taken from tombs and been spelled to repel unwanted eyes.

The night before the sorting feast, Snape stood in the center of the room and surveyed his work. As he ran over his mental checklist, he also rubbed his forearm, which still thoroughly bruised – the price he paid for not taking the guard dog glyph on the cover of an ancient text seriously. There were bookshelves covering the far wall, and the shelves were full of the assorted documents and other items. In the center of the room there was a large wooden table and off to the side there were two leather armchairs by the fireplace, with a smaller table between them. Stacked on the larger table were an assortment of dictionaries that provided alphabets and grammar for dead languages – everything from cuneiform to hieroglyphics to Latin to Old Church Slavonic.

Snape sighed. They had quite the task cut out for themselves. The documents weren't likely to yield their secrets without a struggle. He supposed he should talk to Hermione and let her know they could start working, but he had been putting it off. He loathed the idea of working with anyone, especially not the Gryffindor know-it-all, but he supposed he had no choice, as term was starting the next day and he was going to have to see her on a regular basis. Oh well… it didn't mean he had to be nice about it.

XXXXX

Hermione's week leading up to the beginning of the term passed uneventfully enough, although she was slightly annoyed Snape had made no attempt to contact her. Their assignment from Dumbledore had sounded pretty important to her, but she supposed he worked in his own way and wasn't to be rushed. Her days were full of lesson planning, punctuated by several lovely dinners with Professor McGonagall. Those evenings had been full of story-telling and lesson tips as well as generous amounts of scotch. Hermione reflected ruefully the morning after the first dinner that, with Professor McGonagall's Scottish heritage, it hadn't been very smart to try to keep up drink for drink with her (the scotch they were drinking had the McGonagall family crest, after all) and tried unsuccessfully the second time to pace herself, but somehow it was difficult to refuse a drink from her former teacher.

The start of term feast was as splendid as Hermione remembered. It had been odd at first to view it all from the high table, but she quickly felt at home between Professors McGonagall and Sprout. She had intended to sit next to Snape to try to force him to talk to her, but in the choice between the seat next to Snape glaring at his plate and the one between the two witches who were waving her over, she had taken the easier path.

Much later, full of food and rather sleepy, although nervous for the first day of teaching, Hermione got up to leave the Great Hall to head back to her rooms. She had just entered the Entrance Hall when a voice behind her said curtly, "A word, Ms. Granger." She jumped; she hadn't heard him at all.

She turned to see him standing with his arms crossed, looking decidedly displeased.

"Professor Snape." She nodded.

"If you will meet me in the potions classroom following the final block of classes tomorrow, we shall commence our joint project," he said brusquely, offering nothing more than was necessary.

"Very well. What-" Hermione began, but Snape had already turned and swept away down the corridor in a swirl of black robes.

Hermione sighed. Her questions would be answered the next day. She didn't sleep well that night, with worrying about classes and working with Snape.

XXXX

Upon reflection, Hermione supposed her first day of class went well enough. There were no disasters at least, and at least some of the students showed some promise. There would always be the trouble-makers and the Nevilles though.

Hermione arrived in the dungeons in time to watch the students rush out of the classroom, looking rather shell-shocked and overwhelmingly relieved to be done with potions for the day. She hid a smile and nodded encouragingly at those students she recognized. Some things didn't change. The smile died as Snape swept out of the classroom, glaring at the hapless students who were at the back of the pack. Slamming the classroom door behind him, he headed further down the corridor without so much as a glance at Hermione. She followed him to a door further down the corridor.

Snape pulled out his wand to undo the wards and then pushed the door open. Hermione followed him into the room.

"The Headmaster has been collecting documentation that might mention the stones for some time now. It is his belief that there might be clues to the whereabouts and perhaps spells for their destruction," said Snape stiffly.

"What a collection…" Hermione walked over to the shelves to look more closely at what they would be decoding. "So much history-" She pulled back her hand abruptly as a book made a determined snap at it. "This is incredible. Scrolls from Egypt, tablets from Mesopotamia...," she caught herself, and looked over at Snape. "But...it would take years to catalogue and truly study all of this…"

"That is a most unhelpful observation, as that is an unacceptable time table," snapped Snape.

"Right," said Hermione tensely, feeling the weight of the assignment that had been placed at their feet. "So… we're supposed get past whatever curses and concealment charms the ancient sorcerers of old could come up, figure out what these documents say, not that half of them are in any language currently spoken, and hope there's some mention of stones that have been such a highly guarded secret that almost no one alive today thinks they ever existed? Oh, and because there are three of them, there's a good chance if we do find information it won't even be about the one stone we need. Sounds like a plan."

"The Headmaster feels it is the best course of action, so unless you have a better plan for tracking down these stones, Ms. Granger, I suggest we follow it," said Snape icily. "Although we could each work independently on the task at hand, I suppose that with classes, the evening will be the only free time, so we will inevitably run into one-another."

"Yes, my free time does appear to be limited to the evenings," said Hermione, thinking, although not saying, that working together could provide a great deal of advantages – being able to collaborate, to bounce ideas off each-other, compare spells for curse-breaking – but figured Snape would not feel the same way.

XXXX

At the end of the next day Snape sat at the front of the potions classroom, glaring at the last stragglers who rushed to not be the last one left in the room. He was feeling particularly bitter, as it had been a day including a double potions period for the Gryffindors and Slytherins and included the usual incompetents, and now he had to go work with Granger.

Gritting his teeth, he headed to the other classroom. Upon arriving, he saw that Hermione had beaten him there. She was standing by the wall across from the fireplace, surveying a massive world map that she had apparently hung on the wall.

She turned as he walked in, and he raised an eyebrow in question.

"It's so we can map our progress. See, there's a green pushpin in China, where we know the one stone was destroyed. And a red one in Jordan, because the one we currently possess was found in Petra. This way, if we read about definite references, we can mark where on the map, and maybe with the help of some history books tentatively map the stones' paths."

He nodded and sat down at the large table with a cluster of papyrus scrolls. Hermione looked like she was going to say something, but decided against it and sat down in one of the armchairs with a dusty leather volume.

XXXX

The days passed in an uneasy silence. They would both spend their evenings in the classroom, trying to make a dent in the massive amount of documents, but would barely speak. Snape would always sit at the large table, and Hermione would always sit in one of the armchairs.

About a week in Hermione began to tentatively ask questions of Snape, in part because she had genuine questions regarding the best translation charm or best curse-breaking technique, but also to try to start a conversation. Snape would answer, but with the fewest words possible.

One evening near the beginning of October Hermione was later than normal. Snape noticed, as she was normally the first one there, but then scowled at himself for noticing. At last she arrived, out of breath, robes and hair in disarray, and looking furious. He looked up and raised an eyebrow.

She dropped her school bag on the floor and sat down vehemently in the armchair.

"The fifth years are bloody idiots!" she exclaimed angrily, not caring that it was Snape she was talking to. "That one Mark Quincy in particular! We were learning about catching Cornish pixies, which was a disaster anyways, and he decides to show off for Lara Bishop and try to use some fancy charm, and ends up blowing up half the desks! Luckily they were stacked against the wall away from all the students, but the magical fire still took ages to put out and half the class ended up in the hospital wing with burns. Honestly! What an ass! My back was turned for one moment. Maybe they'll grow out of it…"

"They don't," said Snape, very dryly. "Incompetent students turn into just as incompetent adults. That's why I find it better for my peace of mind to avoid most of the population."

"Or if you can't avoid people you scare and intimidate them into hanging on to every word you say. And in potions class there is the real potential for serious harm. I guess I can't really pull off that teaching method though, can I…" said Hermione.

"No, most definitely not," said Snape, and his mouth twitched (was that the closest to a smile she was going to get?). "But I will take solace in the fact that your classrooms are suitably far from my dungeons that should young Mr. Quincy attempt to pull of any more heroics, I will not be unduly disturbed."

Hermione smiled, and they lapsed into a companionable silence. But something had changed between them, and in the weeks that followed, they went from two people working in the same space to two people working together.


	7. Rex Quondam, Rexque Futurus

_Hic iacet Arthurus, rex quondam, rexque futurus. _"Here lies Arthur, king once, and king to be." The inscription on King Arthur's tomb.

XXXX

In the following weeks, Hermione and Snape made breakthroughs in their search. The map became peppered with pushpins, but while they could mark out where the stones had been, there were still huge holes in their timelines. Conversation became more common, and they compared notes on what their research revealed and consulted each other curse-breaking or translation charms or riddle-cracking (once they got the documents translated, the contents were rarely straightforward). Talk about recently published academic articles or other subjects also slowly began to work its way in as they both became more comfortable with the other.

As autumn progressed, Snape stood in the living room of his suite of rooms, and watched the rain pour down and tried to corner the thought that kept proving elusive. He looked at the book in his hand – a biography of William the Conqueror – and back at the rainy landscape, and then it hit him. He no longer dreaded going to work with Hermione. She had more than proven herself a competent partner, whether in successfully breaking curses or figuring out riddles (even when they got the documents translated, the contents were rarely straightforward), as well as simply not annoying him. Her questions and comments were intelligent, and he could actually carry on an enjoyable, intellectual conversation with her.

As lightning forked across the sky, his thoughts went back to the night in Russia. The spells she had cast had been quite impressive…she really had grown into quite the young witch since leaving Hogwarts… And she was someone he could actually talk to without wanting to hex. But then he reigned in his thoughts. What could he possibly hope to achieve with that train of thought? Absolutely nothing. Not only would the continuation of such thinking go against the core principles he lived by – no connections, no emotions, nothing of the sort – but even if allowed himself to indulge in such thinking, it wasn't as if she would ever even consider-. No. Enough. No more thinking like that.

He glared at the storm raging outside the window, and set off to the classroom. His manner towards Hermione was much colder than it had been in the recent weeks, and she noticed. She then realized what she was noticing, and paused in her examination of the ancient Chinese bamboo scroll to ponder what exactly she was thinking. His attitude toward her had actually thawed in the recent weeks… She had come to realize that while he was still haughty and could be a son of a bitch, he also had a dry sense of humor that could be quite funny, and while he was a smug bastard, he was smart enough to be so smug, and after her frustrating experiences with teaching, she was more understanding to methods of teaching. And…her mind went back to the night in the forest. His animagus was a wolf… most un-Slytherin… but fitting none-the-less…wolves were fierce and proud and noble, and she could see how the picture of lone wolf was fitting.

Hermione glanced over at Snape, who was sitting at the larger table, his concentration fixed on the book he was examining. She watched as he drummed his fingers on the table surface as he looked over the page he was reading. He had long, elegant fingers, and she had seen how skillful he was with his hands, whether in deftly chopping potion ingredients or performing complex translation spells. Her eyes moved from studying his hands to his face. He really wasn't bad looking when he wasn't angry. His face was thin and angular, with proud, high cheekbones. He had a certain disheveled look, true, but there was also something haughty, brooding, and dark about him that was not at all unattractive.

_Wait, what? No, no no no. _The rational part of her mind caught up with her musings, and she quickly looked away before he could catch her staring. He was Snape, the Potions Master…better that he never know what she had been thinking. She would settle for a companionable partnership, or maybe even, if she dared, a friendship between them. But it was unlikely he would ever think of her detached from her school days.

But Snape noticed the quick movement, and slowly, without moving his head, looked at her. Had she been looking at him? The red blush in her cheeks suggested as much. But why…? He watched as she pushed back a curl and tried unsuccessfully to tuck it behind her ear. Her hair had always been rather out-of-control… She really was quite pretty…and so smart… He caught himself and moved his eyes to the other side of the room, careful not to move his head and attract attention. Such thinking would never do.

Snape turned his attention back to the book he had been studying, an original copy of _Le Morte d'Arthur_. It had been taken from Glastonbury Abbey, the final resting place of King Arthur. Why exactly someone had thought it would be useful in their search for the stones, he was unsure, but the book had proved a welcome reprieve from grappling with ancient texts. He had always loved the stories of King Arthur. Snape had been going through it page by page, casting revealing charms in an effort to search for hidden messages, and, as he had not been expecting anything to be revealed, almost missed the shimmering on the last page of the chapter regarding Merlin's death. He frowned, and cast the revealing spell again. There was definitely something there, but it was proving illusive.

"Hermione," he said softly. "I think I found something. Look, this page was added to the book, but it is much older. This one page dates back to the 6th century, but the book wasn't published until 1485."

She looked up quickly, and got up and sat at the table across from him. He demonstrated that there was indeed something magical about the page.

"Could it be that King Arthur and his court were in possession of a stone…," Snape mused.

"Let's find out," said Hermione. "You cast a revealing charm, and I'll cast a sealing charm, and we can try to capture whatever is hidden."

They waved their wands in tandem and the text on the page wavered and changed into something new, but then reverted back just as quickly.

Snape rummaged in his notes. "Here," he said, handing Hermione a slip of paper. "Try this one. It's a much stronger sealing charm."

They tried again, and this time the revealed text lasted long enough for Hermione to scribble it down.

"It's in Latin," said Hermione. "I can read it," she added quickly as Snape raised his wand to translate. "Let's see…

_The once and future king understood. He saw the extremes, both towards the light and towards the darkness, to which man can venture, and understood the power of what he possessed. In a feat of daring and wisdom beyond his time, he tried and we failed. But trying is not enough for victory. It remains to the future knight to return to finish the quest. To the one who seeks not for his own gain. The one who seeks for the greater cause. I lay my quill down as my eyes grow heavy. It is time for me to sleep. I pray we meet again one day old friend. The world will always be in need._

As Hermione finished reading and wrote down the translation, Snape's eyes glowed. "The once and future king, that's King Arthur. The writer of the note, I think it was Merlin. The dating of the note would place it at that point in time."

Hermione blinked at him. Snape was well-versed in Arthurian lore? He was full of surprises. She reread the note.

"It sounds as if… as if they had a stone and took measures to safeguard it until the next…," Hermione trailed off, unsure how to continue the thought without saying "knight" or "quester."

"Until someone comes along to pick up where they failed," Snape completed the thought. "It's possible they had a stone and realizing its power, decided it had to be destroyed, but lacked the means.

"In which case they hid it until it could be found by the one who would destroy it."

"Exactly. And the sentences about sleeping… legend says that Merlin didn't die, but rather was trapped by his lover and put into an endless sleep."

"So," said Hermione, speaking in a very controlled manner to try not to betray her excitement. "Do you think it's possible that the stone is where Merlin was entombed, and he wasn't spelled into sleep for eternity, but rather he's there to guard the stone, and ensure it doesn't fall into the wrong hands?"

"Yes," said Snape, very quietly. "In which case we have an excursion to go on. If you'll excuse me, I'll be right back."

He stood up abruptly and swept out of the room. Hermione sat at the table, looking at the translation, thinking over the last few minutes. Were they really that close to finding one of the stones.

Snape returned carrying two books. One was a heavy leather-bound volume and the other was a small paperback. He handed the paperback to her.

"We'll go on Saturday. You should read the book – _The Once and Future King_ - before we leave so you have an idea of the Arthurian legends." His tone was brusque, all business.

"As to where we'll be going," he said, opening the older book and pointing to an illustration, "the legends disagree where exactly Merlin was buried, but multiple sources catalogue the Marlborough Mound as the place. Today the mound is on the grounds of Marlborough castle. That is where we will try first."

That day was a Wednesday, and they spent the next two evenings immersed in Arthurian legend, Hermione reading _The Once and Future King_, and Snape pouring over _Historia Regum __Britanniae._ Hermione noticed that Snape seemed more tense than normal, but she supposed she was too. Neither wanted to talk too much about what they might have discovered, in case it proved a false lead. Yet it was the first lead they had found, and seemed promising. The facts seemed to add up…Saturday would show.

Saturday dawned clear and cold. Hermione realized as she was walking out the door that wizarding robes were probably not appropriate for the day, as they were going to be walking through the muggle college to get to the mound. She pulled off her robes and thought about what to wear instead before she caught herself. Why did she care what he thought of how she was dressed? Shaking her head and telling herself she was being ridiculous, she settled for jeans, a sweater and a raincoat, choosing warmth and comfort over style. Grabbing her scarf and messenger bag, which she stocked with her auror's kit of potions, she rushed out to the Entrance Hall where they had agreed to meet.

Snape was waiting for her when she arrived. He too was dressed in muggle clothes – black jeans, a black sweater, and a black overcoat. The clothes fit well, and he made quite the dashing figure. Who knew that Severus Snape had a sense of style?

"Are you ready to leave, or would you rather stand here gawping?" he asked, but his tone didn't seem angry.

Hermione blushed that he had caught her staring. "Yes. I, er, I've never seen you not in wizarding robes."

"I don't make a habit of it," he said abruptly, and walked briskly out of the castle. Hermione walked next to him, but they walked in silence.

Once past the apparition wards they apparated to the agreed-upon place outside of the grounds of Marlborough college. From there they walked onto the campus and to the mound. From a distance it looked like a grass-covered hill, but as they got closer, there was a palpable sense of power, as can be felt in the air before a thunder storm.

"Something powerful is below the mound," said Snape. "The question is, how do we get in…" They walked a full circle around the mound, but it looked the same on all sides. Looking up at the sky, Snape walked another quarter of the circle, and nodded. In response to Hermione's curious glance, he said, "If this is a burial mound, the one opening will be on the west side. It was believed the entrance and exit should be on the west, so that when the soul exited, it would follow the sun to the west, into the night world, the afterlife, the world of Hades, the valley of death. It is an ancient belief, a pagan belief. There is very old magic, earth magic, here."

Hermione shivered at his words. There was indeed a force at work here, something ancient, as old as time, something that pre-dated human history, and would outlive it.

Snape spoke a word and the air before them shimmered. There was a metallic tang in the air, almost like the smell of blood. The air wavered but nothing more happened.

"It's the language of ancient magic. It was used centuries ago in pagan rituals, when they appealed to the spirits and mother earth. Such magic and communing can be found at the beginning of most civilizations, yet as the civilization "advances," it seems to loose touch with such thinking."

He spoke the word once more, and another world. Hermione felt the reverberation of the words in her bones and her teeth ached, but this time it seemed to work. The air shimmered, and a door appeared in the mound. It was a large door, seemingly made out of wood and metal, and would not have been out of place in a castle.

Snape pushed at the door. It felt solid under his hands and slowly creaked open to reveal a staircase leading downwards. Torches along the walls flickered into life as the door opened.

Hermione and Snape stood at the top of the staircase and looked down. It curved downward and the torches only provided a half-light, and cast shimmering shadows on the walls.

"Well, here we go," said Snape and he stepped onto the first step.

"Indeed," said Hermione, and followed him down the stairs.


	8. The Twinkle of a Fading Star

_This is the dead land_

_This is cactus land_

_Here the stone images_

_Are raised, here they receive_

_The supplication of a dead man's hand_

_Under the twinkle of a fading star._

_Is it like this_

_In death's other kingdom_

_Waking alone_

_At the hour when we are_

_Trembling with tenderness_

_Lips that would kiss_

_Form prayers to broken stone._

T.S. Elliot's The Hollow Men

Hermione followed Snape down the stairs, their footsteps echoing. The staircase wasn't long, maybe fifty steps, and then they found themselves at the end of a great hall. It looked as if it could have been a banquet hall for a castle, and there was a long table in the center and a massive fireplace at the opposite end. The walls were adorned with flags and torches and hunting trophies. It was as if they had gone back in time. The ground they stood on seemed solid enough, but towards the other end of the hall, reality seemed less solid. The whole hall had a dream-like quality, and it seemed as if there was a mist in the air. Sitting at the far end of the massive table was a hunched figure.

They started to walk toward the figure, but it straightened up and said, "It would be better if you sit at that end. We can still have our discussion, but it would be better for you if you stay close to the entrance." The figure's voice was dry and ancient and yet there was an undercurrent of power, not unlike a castle that has continued to stand centuries after all who knew its story passed on. He looked incredibly old, and yet there was a stregnth and determination in his face. He wore wizarding robes that had once been brightly colored, and had a long white beard.

"Merlin?" Snape asked softly as he and Hermione took seats at the end of the table.

"Yes. I have waited a very long time for questers such as yourselves. Although time does not pass the same down here. On whose behalf are you here?"

"I do not follow," answered Snape.

"Which king has sent you? Which great empire seeks to maintain to secure its greatness with the stones of power?"

"The age of kings is over. Humanity has moved on," said Hermione.

"Moved on? I doubt that. Perhaps it has simply taken a different form. There are always the rulers and those willing to be rule. What did Dostoevsky say, that if there was no god, man would have to create him. There are always those who create gods and kingdoms because man would always trade freedom for safety," said Merlin.

"That is not always the case, but we are not here to debate the human condition," said Snape, determined to stay on point – the far end of the room seemed to be becoming more and more fuzzy - and not dwell on the fact that they were talking to Merlin, and Merlin was quoting Dostoevsky (he apparently was not completely shut off from the world).

"No, I suppose you are not. Although it has been a long time since I was able to discuss anything.

"You know why we are here," said Snape. "Do you have what we seek?"

"And why do you seek it? For the power? For the everlasting life? For the riches it promises?"

"No," said Snape forcefully. "We want to destroy it."

"We know there are those throughout history who have felt the same way," added Hermione. "One stone was destroyed. We believe that King Arthur wanted to destroy the stone in his possession, but you lacked the means at the time. Let us finish what you began."

"Times have indeed changed for a woman to be on a quest of such importance," said Merlin. "The enchantments on this chamber would not permit you to lie, and, indeed, you would not have been able to come this far if you wanted the stone in order to use it. That is fading though…the ancient magic is fading… It is good you came when you did, for it would not last forever."

Merlin waved his hand, and the air shimmered in front of them, and a blue stone the size of Hermione's fist appeared on the table.

"That is it?" Snape asked suspiciously. "Are you just giving us the stone?"

"Severus Snape," Merlin's voice became colder and harsher and more cavernous, as if it was no longer just him speaking. "You think the quest began when you decoded the note or when you arrived at the mound. But the nature of a quest is greater than that. The quest chooses the worthy one. It was not just luck that you drew the correct book to find Nimue's note from the stack of books. No…you were chosen for this quest many years ago. I see a young boy taking solace in the legends of old, in the heroes of King Arthur's court. I see a young man in his darkest hour choosing the honorable option even when the way of darkness beckoned-"

"There was nothing honorable about that choice," Snape rasped, standing up so quickly his chair fell over with a loud bang and looking very pale, his face taunt with barely-concealed anger.

"SEVERUS SNAPE. In the coldest hour of winter, the lone wolf does not survive. And winter is coming."

"We will be going now," said Snape, keeping his voice under control with the greatest of effort. He picked up the stone and put it in his pocket and turned to the staircase.

"Thank you, Merlin," said Hermione. "The stones will be destroyed. What will happen to you?"

"I shall fade away. It has been too long and I welcome it. I will be the breeze at sunset that shakes the wheat and rustles the tree …" said the old wizard, his form and the banquet hall becoming increasingly fuzzy. "You had best leave. Good luck…" his voice trailed off.

Hermione turned to follow Snape up the stairs, when Merlin spoke again, but his voice had an ethereal quality to it, as if it were coming from far away, and it echoed.

"Ms. Granger… There was one…a boy king in a sun-burnt desert…wise beyond his years…died for that wisdom…set his magicians to find the spell of destruction…betrayal…regicide….but one remained loyal…saved the document…"

The hall began to crumble, and stones began to fall from the ceiling. "We must go now," said Snape urgently, and pulled her arm. They ran up the stairs, with the stones crumbling behind them. They burst through the door into the sunlight as the passageway collapsed completely, and as they did, a rush of air went past them with a sound like a sigh.

"Merlin…he's free at last," said Hermione. "Shall we…" she trailed off as she looked at Snape. He was standing stiffly, looking straight ahead but not seeing, with an expression of loss and pain and vulnerability, as if he were reliving a horrible memory.

"Severus," Hermione said quietly with concern, and reached out to touch his arm. He jumped at her touch, and his face twisted back to its familiar look of scorn.

"We have what we came for, we can now return to Hogwarts," he snapped, and set off. Hermione sighed and followed him.

When they got back to Hogwarts, Snape finally broke the silence in the Entrance Hall when he said curtly, "On Monday we can start work on researching breaking spells. Good work today, Ms. Granger." With a nod he strode toward the dungeons.

Hermione slowly made her way back to her rooms. She collapsed into one of the armchairs by the fire and made herself a mug of tea and tried to absorb the events of the day. They had actually found the last stone. And they had conversed with Merlin. She was concerned about Snape though…he hadn't taken what Merlin had said to him very well. She had never thought she would see him looking vulnerable. She stared into the flames. The best thing to do probably was not to mention it. To show up on Monday ready for more research. Although…as she thought about Merlin's last words, an idea slowly formed in her head. As the shadows lengthened, she got up and went over to her bookshelf, where, in the corner, stood an old but much loved book of Egyptian history and mythology. Snape might know the Arthurian legends, but she had always had a soft spot for the ancient civilizations, and before coming to Hogwarts, her favorite place to be on the weekend was the British Museum.


	9. Not Much Light But It Beats The Darkness

"your life is your life

don't let it be clubbed into dank submission.

be on the watch.

there are ways out.

there is a light somewhere.

it may not be much light but

it beats the darkness.

be on the watch.

the gods will offer you chances.

know them.

take them.

you can't beat death but

you can beat death in life, sometimes.

and the more often you learn to do it,

the more light there will be.

your life is your life.

know it while you have it.

you are marvelous

the gods wait to delight

in you."

Charles Bukowski's "The Laughing Heart"

The Sunday after they found the stone, Snape sat in his armchair glaring at the fire burning in the grate of his living room with a bottle of fire whiskey balancing precariously on the chair arm. Merlin's words had dredged up feelings he was trying to drown with the whiskey, feelings he thought he had successfully buried. How dare the old fool even mention heroism in regard to Snape's past… Snape grimaced and poured himself another drink. It burned as he swallowed it, but he relished the pain.

AS the stars began to fade in the morning light, the bottle was almost empty and the fire was down to its embers. Snape's thoughts turned to Hermione and he realized that he genuinely cared for her. In another life, she was someone he would want to be with. But then his face contorted with hurt as he remembered the one other person for whom he had cared so deeply. His sister. His younger sister, so innocent, so sweet, whom he had promised he would always be there for, whom he had promised he would always protect, but in the end he hadn't got there in time. He had not been able to save her. He took a swig from the bottle – he had long ago stopped bothering with pouring it out –and looked out the window as the night sky began to lighten. The friendly relations with Hermione had to end. He had long ago lost any fear of his own death, and sometimes he wished that Voldemort would find out he was a spy, so that then it would at least be over, albeit after a very painful interlude. But he didn't think he could stand it if anything happened to Hermione because of him.

XXXX

Monday evening found Hermione pacing anxiously in front of the fire in the classroom, waiting for Snape. She was concerned about Snape, as her Gryffindors had told her that in their double potions earlier that day Snape had snapped at the Slytherin students, which suggested something was deeply wrong. He finally showed up, later than usual, and swept in without saying anything. With hardly a glance at Hermione he sat at the table and pulled a pile of books towards him.

When it became clear that he wasn't going to initiate anything, Hermoine sat down in the chair across from him. He looked up irritably but didn't say a word. She noticed there were deep shadows under his eyes – he hadn't been sleeping well.

"Professor?" said Hermione tentatively, and got a glare in response. "I think I know who Merline was talking about at the end, when he said there was a boy king who figured out the destructive spells."

Snape closed the book but didn't say anything, and so Hermione continued: "I think he was talking about Tutankhamun."

One part of Snape's mind thought she might be onto something, but the another remembered that he had to put distance between them, so he chose to sneer mockingly, "Really, Ms. Granger? King Tut? How exactly do you plan on following up with that? He lived and died over 5,000 years ago. Shall I brush off my Ouija board and call Professor Trelawney?"

Hermione colored slightly, but her voice remained even. Where had the camaraderie of the past weeks gone? "That will not be necessary. The clues Merlin gave us, and it makes sense in the context of history. King Tut died young, and it's possible he was murdered. Anyways, we barely had more than that to go gallivanting after the ghosts from King Arthur legends, and we found the stone. There's a King Tut exhibit at a prominent museum in Washington, and I think it's the best chance to see if anything was hidden with his body. The artifacts come from the innermost burial chamber, where anything of such high importance would have been hidden. And this week there is a gala. I already have an invitation to the event from Harry and Ron, so I will be able to go without raising suspicions. As you know they're stationed in Washington-"

Snape snorted. She brought up Potter and Weasley. She was making it too easy to be nasty. "Of course you had to bring in Potter and Weasley. A reunion of the terrible trio." She rolled her eyes. "But you make a case for King Tut being the boy king of Merlin's words. Very well. I suppose we shall make arrangements to go to America and to attend this gala, and-"

"No, Professor," Hermione's voice was firm.

He felt a spark of anger. It had been a rough past few days, and now she had the audacity to cut him off? "Excuse me, Ms. Granger?"

"You will not be going. I will go alone, I will meet up with Harry and Ron, we will attend the gala, I will secretly see if there is indeed anything hidden. You would stand out. What reason could you give for going to Washington, and with me? The last thing we want to do is draw attention to ourselves."

He felt his temper rising, all the more so because she was right, but he would never concede that point. "So I'm supposed to leave the fate of the world in the hands of some Gryffindors?" he snarled. "Good god, I'll be impressed if there's still a world to save when this week is over."

Hermione was angry now. "I think we've showed ourselves capable of saving the world enough times over, not that we've ever had anything to prove to you," she snapped.

He gave her a nasty glare, and she held his gaze for an impressive amount of time before looking away. "Look, Professor Snape," she began, trying to make amends, but he cut her off.

"Fine," he growled. "Insolent Gryffindors. You think you always know best. Fine. Go to the gala. I doubt there will be anything to find." With that, he stood up abruptly and stalked out of the room with his robes billowing behind him.

Hermione stayed at the table for a while longer, feeling hurt and angry. It was as if the past weeks hadn't happened. She thought they were making progress… she thought that they might even be able to be friends, especially if they succeeded in this herculean task. She would greatly value his friendship… He was so smart – someone she could have a real conversation with – he was brave, he was rather dashing in his black robes and proud manner, like the dark hero out of a storybook. But he seemed to have other ideas.

Snape was furious. He strode through the castle corridors, taking points off every student he encountered for being in the way. He couldn't even place a finger on why he was so angry. It was probably in part because of the past few days, because she was right and he knew there was no way they could go to the exhibit together without drawing attention. But was it also because she had brought up Harry and Ron, and alluded to their strong friendship? No. That was ridiculous.

On Tuesday Hermione contacted Harry and Ron over the flue network to plan for the next day. After some catching-up and laughing over the antics of the U.S. Congress, they started planning.

"Ok, so this is what I'm thinking. If we find traces of something hidden, Ron you're up first. You talk to Fred and George, and figure out some way to cause a distraction. Ideally it won't be something too magical, because we don't want anyone to detect anything. But it should be something that will clear out the exhibit. And then Harry, you bring your invisibility cloak, and we'll stay behind and figure out what it is, and if it's what I'm looking for."

Harry and Ron grinned. "Sounds like a good time," said Ron.

"Either way, it will be fun. Even if you don't find anything, it'll be great to see you 'Moine," said Harry.

"Yeah!" Ron added. "You should come early and we'll have a nice dinner in a fancy restaurant and people watch.

"Oh yeah, you have to come for dinner," said Harry.

"Ok, ok," said Hermione, smiling. "It sounds like a fun evening."

"Looking forward to it," said Ron. "We have to sign off now though, things are crazy here. U.S.-Russian relations are going down the tube, and then there are the other issues…"

"Take care!" Hermione called as the boys disappeared from the fireplace.

As Wednesday evening drew closer, Hermione stood in her room trying to figure out what to wear. It was a black tie event, and her wardrobe was lacking in such clothes. She looked at the dresses she did have, and frowned. If only there was someway to change them… Then she laughed at herself. She was a witch! Pulling out her wand, she waved it and a copy of Vanity Fair appeared. Flipping through it, she chose a dress and transfigured a rather awful pink dress into a more sophisticated black evening gown. She then turned a pair of shoes into a pair of strappy black sandals and one of her cloaks into a sleek overcoat. With the help of some charms, she convinced her hair to stay in a bun on the top of her head. Feeling pleased with herself, she put her wand and muggle money into her purse and set off.

She got to the entrance hall when dinner was almost over, and passed Snape. He shot her a nasty look and passed by without comment. She sighed. They hadn't spoken since he had stormed out the other day. Shaking her head and determined not to let Snape ruin the evening, she left the castle and walked across the grounds. Once past the apparition wards, she apparated to the agreed-upon place in Washington.

XXXX

Snape fumed as he walked down to the dungeons. So she was off to the gala and to see Potter and Weasley. And she looked wonderful. And none of those thoughts were conducive to anything. Furious with himself, he paced in his living room, and was about to leave to patrol the corridors and take points off hapless students, when an owl tapped at his window. He let the bird in and read the letter. The blood drained from his face. As he held the letter, as if on cue, his forearm, where the dark mark was, prickled. It was as if Dark Lord was mocking him, reminding him of his duties, and ensuring he would take the letter seriously. They were getting bolder, which was dangerous for all involved.

XXXX

Once she had apparated, Hermione barely had time to get her bearings before she was swept up in big hugs from Ron and Harry. Grinning broadly, she told them they looked dashing in their tuxedos, and the trio headed to dinner. After a delicious dinner and expensive wine, they headed to the museum. It was quite the fancy event, with high profile guests. Harry and Ron pointed out notable persons as they walked slowly through the exhibit and sipped champagne.

"Hmm… where would they have hidden something they wanted to last the centuries?"

"Somewhere close to the pharoh, in something important…" said Harry.

"Yeah, but it would have to be in the right type of container," added Ron.

As they slowly walked, they would cast detection charms discreetly to try to find hidden enchantments. Hermione's wand reverberated slightly as they neared the back of the hall, where the most important artifacts were, as well as King Tut himself.

"Guys," she hissed. "I think we're close."

They spread out, examining the artifacts closely.

"Hermione, over here!" Ron called. He was standing in front of the canopic jars, the jars that were intended to hold the pharoh's organs. "I think there's something in the falcon jar."

The three of them stood in front of the jar. Hermione waved her wand. Yes, there was definitely something there.

"Ok guys, ready to put the plan in action?"

Harry and Ron grinned at each-other, and Ron said, "We were born ready to cause mischief. Here goes nothing."

As he strode off, Hermione turned to Harry, "Harry, what exactly does Ron have planned?"

"You'll see," said Harry with a grin.

A few minutes later there were muffled bangs from outside the exhibit hall and commotion spread.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said a voice over the loudspeaker. "We appear to have some, ah, plumbing problems. Regretfully the gala will have to end early, and we ask everyone to make their way toward the exits."

"Time for the invisibility cloak," said Harry, slipping it over the two of them and trying very hard not to laugh.

"Did he really blow up the toilets?" Hermione asked, torn between amusement and the urge to chide the boys for their toilet humor.

The exhibit hall slowly emptied. Before they pulled off the invisibility cloak, Harry put up his hand and then waved his wand. "The cameras are off now."

They pulled off the cloak, and stood in front of the exhibit with the canopic jars.

"So, I took the liberty of reviewing the security for the exhibit. To access the artifacts we have to disable the one alarm system in the glass," Harry waved his wand, "and this other one in the pressure system on which the jars are sitting on," he waved it again, "and then we should be in business."

"Harry, you're the best!" said Hermione, and she pulled out her wand to remove the glass.

With the glass gone, she took a deep breath, and then slowly reached in and picked up the falcon jar. "It's heavy," she said.

"Probably full of petrified pharaoh body parts. Bleh," said Harry, making a face.

"Haha. But they shouldn't have such a strong magical resonance. Here, you hold the jar," she said, handing it to Harry to hold. She then tried to open it. Not surprisingly the lid refused to come off. "It would be suspicious if it were too easy. Let me try some things." She tried several spells before one seemed to work. Holding her breath, with wand at the ready for whatever might come out of the jar, she opened it. Nothing happened, and she slowly peered inside.

"Harry, there are scrolls inside!" she whispered with barely concealed excitement.

"Well go on, take them out," he said grinning. "Knew you could do it, 'Mione."

With bated breath, expecting something bad to happen, she pulled out the scrolls. They were ancient, but there had been strong preservation charms put on them. Using another exhibit as table, she slowly unrolled them. They were written in hieroglyphics, but through using translation charms she was able to figure out that they highlighted a spell, a potion, and a ceremony, presumably for the destruction of the stones.

"This is incredible," she murmured to herself. "I wonder if this tells the whole story…obviously someone close to Tut agreed that the stones should be destroyed and took great pains to hide the documents so that maybe someone would find them one day. And Tut himself could look over them…" Out loud, she said to Harry, "I think this is what I'm looking for. I guess we can put the jar back, and remake the exhibition glass. She carefully placed the scrolls in a special cylinder she had brought just in case that would keep them safe.

Once they had restored the exhibit and Harry had turned the alarms back on, they slipped out of the museum, skirting the large puddle of water near the restrooms, and headed to where Ron was waiting.

"Well?" he asked. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes!" answered Hermione excitedly. "It was a success! Whatever you did worked. Erm…what exactly did you do?"

Ron grinned. "Well… muggle firecrackers might have found their way into some of the toilets, and they might have been charmed to be waterproofed. And then somehow they got set off and there was a bit of a plumbing disaster. Fred and George really came through."

"Well…nicely done," said Hermione ruefully.

"I would say we should all grab a drink, but we have to get up ridiculously early tomorrow to attend this rocket test the Americans are doing," said Harry.

"That's ok," said Hermione. "It was a great evening, and thank you both so much. I couldn't have done it without you."

"Until next time, Hermione!" said Ron, and they all exchanged good-bye hugs.

Smiling to herself, Hermione apparated back to the Hogwarts grounds. She headed through Hogsmeade, admiring the way the moonlight played off the buildings. She was almost to the end of the main street, when there were a series of pops in font of her. She whipped out her wand.

Ten or so Death Eaters appeared in front of her, blocking the way back towards the castle. She felt a thrill of fear – what were they doing so close to Hogwarts? How did they know she was going to be returning just then?

Sounding braver than she felt, she called out, "What do you want? You have some nerve coming so close to Hogwarts. Dumbledore will have your heads for this."

"What the Headmaster doesn't know won't hurt him," said a simpering voice, and the figure of Wormtail stepped forward. "Hello dear girl. It seems we meet again. And this time, it seems I have the advantage of having some friends with me this time."

"Pettigrew," said Hermione with all the disgust she could muster. "You two-faced traitor-"

"Now now, Hermione," said Wormtail, with a sickly grin. "You really ought to be nicer to me. I hold a great deal of power now."

Hermione didn't answer. The Death Eaters had spread out into a sort of half circle, and they were watching her, but it seemed they were also waiting for something.

Wormtail confirmed that thought by checking his watch. "Hmm… where is our mutual friend… tardiness is not his usual modus operandi…"

"What is the meaning of this, Wormtail?" A familiar voice cut through the darkness, soft but deadly. Snape appeared, striding up from the direction of Hogwarts, his face contorted with fury and robes billowing behind him. "You said you wanted to discuss a matter. What on earth were you thinking with this? Have you gone mad?"

"Ah, Severus," said Wormtail, with sickening sweetness, turning to face Snape. The other Death Easters shifted uneasily, as if they hadn't really thought through what had been asked of them. "I'm glad you decided to join us. I'm afraid the Dark Lord has grown suspicious of your loyalties, my friend. He has given us the task of testing you, to see which side you truly are on. It should be an easy test. You kill the mudblood and then come with back with us. The Dark Lord has decided it is time to expedite planning. Or… you make the wrong choice; we kill you and the mudblood, and return with a sorrowful tale. What will it be?"

"You son of a bitch," Snape snarled, sounding more wolf like than Hermione had ever heard him. "You've been whispering to Voldemort that I'm untrustworthy for a long time now, and so the Dark Lord finally grow tired of it and tasked you with proving it?"

Wormtail giggled, a horrible sound. "Oh Severus, always so suspicious…but yes, that's about the size of it. But come on now, it's cold, do make your choice!"

"I'm afraid," said Snape, sounding more like his normal self, "that that is a simple choice."

There was a flash of light, and Wormtail went tumbling head over heels to slam into a building.

"I knew it!" Pettigrew crowed triumphantly. "I always knew-" But what he always knew was left unknown, as he apparated mere moments before a flash of light from Snape's wand struck where he had been lying and started a fire.

With Wormtail gone, confusion reigned. The other Death Eaters seemed unsure of how to proceed, but most seemed to decide to finish what Wormtail had abandoned, perhaps in hopes of gaining the Dark Lord's admiration. Hermione found herself dueling with several, while Snape took on the rest. But they quickly realized the smartest thing to do would be to follow Wormtail, and so the majority disapparated before they could be felled, but they left three of their colleagues on the ground.

As the last Death Eater apparated, Hermione realized her coat was smoldering, and quickly slipped out of it and dropped it on the ground to stamp out the flames. Succeeding in putting out the fire, she looked up and saw Snape watching her. She looked back at him, and their eyes met. She also realized she was trembling, out of cold – it was the end of October in the Scottish Highlands and she was in just her gala dress - and shock and adrenaline.

Snape noticed she was trembling too, and he quickly walked over to her, undoing his cloak on the way. When he got to her, he put his cloak around her shoulders and gently fastened the clasp at her throat. He then, ever so gently, wiped away a smudge of blood on her cheek from one of the curses. She shivered as his hands brushed against her, but he wasn't sure if it was his touch or the cold. When he was done, they stayed standing very close to one another. Snape fought hard not to shiver himself at her proximity.

AS he stood in front of her, Hermione looked up into his face. She felt an overwhelming urge to throw her arms around him and kiss him and feel his arms around her. She settled for pushing back a strand of his hair, her fingers tracing his jawline. Was it her imagination, or did he suppress a shiver at her touch? Was it just her wanting it to be, or was he looking at her just as intensely as was looking at him?

He finally broke the silence and said softly, "Hermione…are you alright?"

Pushing back the urge to say she would be fine if he would kiss her, Hermione answered, "Yes. But what were they doing so close to Hogwarts?"

"I was supposed to meet with Wormtail. I suppose it was all planned out," answered Snape grimly. "I'm afraid my cover has been exposed. We must speak with the Headmaster. Did you find the scrolls?"

Hermione told him of the night's events as they headed toward the castle and Snape fought the urge to put his arm around her as they walked and his mind worked on formulating plans for future action now that he had been uncovered.


End file.
